The Church Of Shoes
My place of worship; in this case, the storefront adjoining Christian Leboutin's workshop, a few doors down from our apartment.
My form of fundamentalism: The War On Thongs.
This is the foot of an American seated next to me at the café across the street. Ick. Too much information!
Hmm. That foot looks French to me.
I stepped out of the train station in Montparnasse 19 years ago, and this elderly native, between words to his companion on the streetcorner, was routinely hacking up nastiness and expelling it onto the street, where it was obviously accumulating. I steered well away.
Ugliness, unfortunately, is international.
Glad you're doing what you can to counter that!
Radwaste at July 31, 2005 8:27 AM
He was American. Off to get his graduate degree in San Diego. You can always count on me to be nosy and meddling!...actually, I tend to talk to everyone.
Ugliness is international. And money is no guarantee against it -- just type the words "La Durée" into the search window on my blog and you'll see!
Amy Alkon at July 31, 2005 5:08 PM
Yuck. Why would I *search* for ugly? I'm on your blog so I can marvel at what you think and enjoy your pictures and stories. I'm no masochist. Model away when you wish; I'll certainly be appreciative as I keep my proper distance.
Radwaste at July 31, 2005 5:54 PM
Prayer fetishes rather then prayer candles, yes!
Gorgeous picture, Amy. The first one, that is.
Doug at July 31, 2005 7:50 PM
Merci! (And Rad, you've already seen La D. I think...the woman changing the baby at the patisserie...ick!)
Amy Alkon at July 31, 2005 10:49 PM
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